The Secrets We Know
by girlinterrupted22
Summary: Sometimes our secrets keep us from going home again. But sometimes, the secrets we know are the very things that bring us back together. The secrets that Bridget, Lena, Tibby, and Carmen know and don't share will end in the death of one of their own.
1. Prologue

The day that I heard the news started out like pretty much every other day. I was sitting at my kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal with the newspaper spread out in front me when the phone rang. I picked it up hesitantly, having dealt with so much bad news in the recent weeks that I was almost afraid to answer the phone.

I could barely understand the words she was saying through her tears, but I knew that I had to go. I was in the car and flying down the interstate before I could even think about it, my own tears blurring my eyes to the point where I was barely staying between the lines.

When we were growing up, the four of us were closer than any group of friends I had ever known. Born all during the month of September, we had done everything together growing up. Somewhere along the way, we had started drifting apart. It wasn't that we weren't friends with each other anymore. It was more that where we had once lived one life together, we were now living four separate ones that visited the other's circles once in a while.

It was the secrets that were our undoing. At some point, we stopped sharing the bad things with each and made everything all smiles. Life wasn't all smiles; everything wasn't happy. Each of us had our own problems, but we became afraid to share them with each other. We all wanted the others to think that it was all okay, even in the times that it wasn't, because we were afraid of what they would think if they knew the truth.

When I walked into the hospital room that day and realized that she would never smile again, never flip her hair, never breathe…something inside of me broke. The three of us sat there in silence with her, each of us, I'm sure, wishing with all of our hearts that we could go back and know the secrets in time to save her.


	2. Just Rip Off the BandAid

Six Weeks Earlier

Bridget

I leaned my head back against the wall, checking my cell phone for the tenth time since sitting down in complete annoyance. Even knowing how important this appointment was, Eric had apparently chosen not to come. Flipping open my phone again, I hesitated over Lena's speed dial button.

"Ms. Vreeland?" the receptionist called, "The doctor will see you now."

Snapping my phone shut, I shoved it back in my tiny purse and followed the woman down the hallway and into an office.

"Ms. Vreeland," the doctor said, rising to shake my hand. "It's good to see you again."

Reaching up with one hand to shove the hair out of my face, I answered, "Just call me Bridget, okay? It's easier. I just want to know why I'm here so that I can not be here, no offense."

She smiled hesitantly, the type of smile that people give you when they don't know what other expression to plaster on their face. "You can have a seat then," she said, gesturing to the chair. "Is your boyfriend here with you?"

"He couldn't make it. He got stuck at work."

The doctor sat back down behind her desk and opened the file folder that was in front of her. "You were in here last week for your annual exam, and we ran some tests after…."

I nodded wearily, dreading the news that I was certain was coming. "They found a lump in my breast." After a beat, I added, "I've been coming to you every year since high school. Just rip off the band-aid, it'll be a lot less painful for both of us."

"The tests that we did show that the lump is malignant, Bridget. You have breast cancer."

I looked down at the desk, unable to meet her eyes. Even though I had been positive that, the luck I had in life, cancer was the news I was going to be receiving, it still took my breath away.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

"How bad is it?" I whispered, biting down on the side of my cheek to keep my tears at bay.

"We won't know until we run more tests. If we caught it early enough, the cancer won't have spread to your lymph nodes yet. You have a very good chance of beating it then."

"And if it has spread to my lymph nodes?" I asked.

She didn't answer right away. "The prognosis is not very good if the cancer has spread."

I closed my eyes. "We can do these tests today?"

"I can fit you in right now."

"Let's do it then," I said.

"Is there someone I can call to be with you?"

I stared at the desk, at the wall, at the plants, anywhere but at the doctor. I thought of Lena again, but then shook my head. "No. Let's just get this done."


	3. Spilled Coffee

Tibby

Brian and I sat across from each other in the coffee shop, both us staring down at the table with our hands folded around our respective cups.

"Tibby, I am so, so sorry," he whispered, taking one hand off of his cup to reach for my hand.

I pulled my hands away and shoved them in my lap, under the table. "Don't."

"Okay," he complied, immediately putting his hands back around his cup.

"I didn't see you doing this," I said quietly. "Really, I didn't."

"Tibby…"

Holding up a hand to stop him from talking, I continued, "I mean, after everything we've been through, after all of the bad things, you running after me even when I didn't trust you, stepping back when I needed you to, still being there when I decided to come back…After everything…I trusted you. I trusted you to be what I needed you to be, and you were, I thought…but…now you've not."

"I…"

I held up my hand again. "Brian, please don't. At this point, there's absolutely nothing that you could say to fix this. You can't take it back; you can't make it go away."

"It will never happen again, Tibby, I swear it."

I shoved my chair back so angrily that it rocked the table, spilling my cup of coffee all over everything. "You are so right it will never happen again!" I screamed as Brian stood up to frantically dump the hot liquid from his lap. "Effie, Brian? Effie??"

Grabbing my purse from the back of the chair, I stormed out of the shop, leaving Brian behind to deal with the mess that my anger had left. The words that Brian and I had just exchanged drove through my brain like long, sharp nails with every step that I took. _Brian slept with Effie. Brian slept with Effie._ I had suspected it for weeks, but today had been the day I finally confronted him, and he hadn't even tried to hide it.

_Brian slept with Effie. He slept with Effie._ No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was so engrossed in my thoughts as I stepped into the crosswalk that I didn't even see Bridget coming when we ran smack into each other.

"Bridget," I exclaimed, turning away slightly, to wipe away the remaining tears from my cheeks before she could see them. "How are you?"

Bridget turned away as we stepped back out of the middle of the street, hiding behind her curtain of long blonde hair. It was a maneuver I recognized well. She did it when she was trying to hide.

"Bridget, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, flipping her hair back so that I could see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks stained with the tracks of dried tears. Something in her gaze seemed to be daring me to challenge her statement.

"No you're not," I insisted, meeting her challenge. "It's been a couple weeks since we've talked…what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," she said again. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I replied.

"Uh-huh," Bridget raised an eyebrow, believing me as much as I believed her.

We started walking, and I followed her rather than go the way I had been going. "Brian and I broke up," I said by way of offering, trying to get her to open up.

"I'm sorry," she said, not looking at me. "What happened?"

"You really want to know?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?" she retorted.

"He slept with Effie."

"Oh geese."

"Yeah. I mean, I suspected it for a while but…"

"You didn't say anything," she finished.

After a few more minutes of silent walking, we were going past a small park. "You want to go sit by the duck pond for a few minutes like we did when we were little?" I asked.

Bridget shrugged. "Just to sit? Yeah, sure."

We wandered down the paths in the park, finding our way to one of the benches.

"You and Brian are done, huh?"

I nodded. "It doesn't hurt as much as it did half an hour ago. It's good to see you, Bee. I miss you. It's been too long."

"I'm good for something then," she murmured, staring down into her lap.

"Bee? Something's wrong, isn't it? What's going on?"

"I can't believe you didn't say anything about what was going on with Brian," Bridget said, totally avoiding my question. "When you first suspected it, you know I would have kicked the crap out of him for you."

"I know, Bee, I'm sorry, I just…"

"I have cancer," she interrupted, so softly that I almost missed it.

"What?" I gasped, immediately taking her hand in mine and giving it a squeeze.

"I have…breast cancer," she said, beginning to cry softly.

"Bee…"

"They don't know how bad it is yet. It might not be that bad. It might be fine, maybe…"

I put an arm around her shoulders, and she rested against me as her body shook with sobs.


	4. Back to Bethesda

Carmen

My fingers flew across the keys as I typed an email to my editor explaining the tardiness of my latest chapter. I was midway through an excuse that sounded strangely like "the dog ate my homework" when my instant messenger lit up with a ding and an orange window in my start bar.

Tibberon: Carma?

I let the instant messenger flash as I finished off my email and hit send.

Tibberon: Are you online? I need to talk to you.

Leaning back in my reclining office chair, I rested my hands on my ever enlarging pregnant belly and stared at my computer monitor.

Tibberon: Look, I SEE you. Why does it say you're online and you don't answer? Why won't anybody talk to me?

Words flew rapidly through my head as I came up with all sorts of things that I could say, but every time I put my fingers to the keyboard, I was plagued with the same writer's block that inflicted my latest novel.

Tibberon: Look, I know you've been really isolated since Win died, but I really need you. Or, I…Well, Bee needs you. So when you decide that you want to return to the world of the living people, your living FRIENDS, give me a call.

I spent every minute of every waking hour trying not to think about Win. If I didn't think about Win, then he wasn't really gone. If I didn't think about Win, then I could almost get away with pretending that I had never even known him.

After another minute of my inaction, another message popped up.

Tibberon: Or don't. Whatever.

My heart latched onto the human connection that I hadn't had in longer than I could remember, and I started typing without letting my brain really think about it.

Carmabella: Hi.

Tibberon: Sorry…I thought maybe if I was mean, you'd answer.

Carmabella: I don't really have a lot of time, Tibby. I'm really busy writing right now.

I wasn't really all that busy. I hadn't written a complete novel since I had lost Win four months earlier. My latest novel was greatly overdue to my editor, but writing always made me think of him, and it just got to be a lot at times.

Tibberon: Carma…

Carmabella: What?

I shook my head with impatience, bending down as best I could around my belly to grab the box of crackers from the floor next to my desk.

Tibberon: Bee has cancer.

The cracker that was halfway to my mouth slipped from my fingers and scattered across my desk. I was vaguely aware of the fact that my mouth was hanging open, but I found myself totally frozen.

Tibberon: Carmen?

I shook my head, struggling to clear the clutter in my brain enough to form a coherent response.

Carmabelle: I'm coming. To Bethesda. I'll be there tonight.

Clicking rapidly on the x in the upper right hand corner of the window, I signed out of the instant messenger program before Tibby had a chance to respond. I was going back to Bethesda.


	5. Don't Say Anything More

Bridget

I folded my body into my blankets, tipping my head to hold my cell phone against my shoulder as the line to Lena rang repeatedly. It was the third time that I had tried to call and gotten no response. The call waiting beeped somewhere around the twenty third ring, and was flashing 'Tibby' when I pulled the phone away from my ear. Snapping the flip cover closed, I shoved the phone under one of my pillows and sank back even further into the bed.

"Hey, Bee, I'm home!" I heard Eric call from downstairs.

I made no effort to respond, and I could hear him coming up the stairs. As Eric entered the room, he stripped off his jacket and whipped it into the corner. "Hey, I'm home," he said again. "Didn't you hear me come in?"

Leveling my gaze, I stared directly at him and willed all of the dark clutter in my head straight into him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the blanket pulling towards him as he leaned forward to take off his shoes and socks. "I had a really long day at work today," he said, seeming to think that he was carrying on a conversation with me.

"I didn't."

"That's good," he answered hesitantly, dropping his socks to the floor and actually meeting my eyes for the first time. "Is something wrong?"

I wanted to rip the pillows out from under my head and fling them at him as hard as I could. Biting down on my lip, I drew on all of the stubbornness within me so that he wouldn't see me cry.

Frowning, Eric looked me up and down. "Did you even go to work today, hon? You know we can't afford for you to be taking these mental health days."

"Do you remember something that you were maybe supposed to do today? With me?" I snapped back.

His eyes rolled up towards the ceiling slightly as he struggled to remember.

"My appointment…?" I prodded angrily.

"Your app…Oh, the doctor? How did that go?"

"Oh my god!" I screamed, unable to keep myself from throwing one of the side pillows at his head.

Eric sprang up from the edge of the bed. "Geese, Bee, what the he…"

"I have cancer, Eric," I interrupted, "I have cancer. I found out I have cancer, and you weren't even there with me!"

His mouth hanging open, Eric sank back down onto the mattress. "Bee…I don't know what to say."

"Just…don't say anything at all right now, okay?" I whispered. "I'm really hurt right now."  
"I know the news sucks, but we…"

"By you, Eric. I think…I need you to leave."

"You…"

I shook my head. "This is what you do, Eric, this is all you do. You keep blowing me off, even when it's really important. I think it's all you know how to do. So why don't you just go? I can't hear excuses right now; I can't handle it. Just go."

He nodded resignedly. "Okay. I'll go."

"That's it?" I whispered as he vanished out the bedroom door and down the stairs. "You aren't even going to fight me?"

I sighed deeply, digging my fingers into my eyes to try and rub out the overwhelming fog. I didn't really want a fight anyway, not an angry one. I wanted my husband to fight for me; to want to be with me. It was becoming obvious that that was never going to happen.

I pulled out the cell phone again and dialed Lena for a fourth time. The voicemail finally picked up. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Lena…" My voice cracked, the weight of the news I had to give settling on top of me all at once. It felt wrong saying it on voicemail, and I couldn't bring myself to spit out the words. "Lenny," I sobbed brokenly. "I need you…to come."

I hung up the phone without saying anything else. Lena and I had been best friends once. She wouldn't need me to say anything more. Even though it had been a long time, I clung to the fact that Lena would just _know_.


	6. How Could I Know So Little?

Tibby

I was sitting on the same bench where I had been stationed since receiving the phone call from Carmen an hour before. As the train slid into the station with and filled the air overhead with a gigantic ringing sound, I rose to my feet and moved over to the platform, waiting for the doors to open. I hadn't seen Carmen since we had all been at Win's funeral. None of us had. I wasn't sure what to expect.

As Carmen appeared in the crowd of people gushing from the crowd, my mouth blatantly dropped open. With a smile to acknowledge my obvious shock at her pregnant belly, she nodded slowly and crossed the platform to stand in from of me. "Hi."

I wanted so badly to reach out and hug her; just bury her in my arms and never let her go; but I was uncertain of where I stood after all the months that had passed. "Hey," I responded.

Tears pooled in Carmen's eyes as she looked at me, seeming to wonder the same things that were going through my head. I nodded, and her bag fell to the ground beside us as we embraced. The crowd parted around us, but it was only my best friend and I. I couldn't see anything else.

After several seconds, she pulled away and scooped up her bag. "We should go, I guess," she said, swiping at the tears that littered her cheeks.

I wrapped an arm gently around her shoulders as we walked, reaching up with my other hand to wipe the tears away from my own eyes. When we reached the car, I took Carmen's bag and popped the trunk to throw it inside. Settling into the driver's seat, I gave her a chance to adjust her seatbelt before putting the car into gear.

_How could I know so little about them, my friends? _ I thought to myself._ I don't know where Lena is. I didn't know Bee was sick. I didn't even know Carmen was pregnant. How did we get so far apart?_

"When are you due?" I asked awkwardly as we got on the road. I wasn't sure whether it was an appropriate question or not.

"Five weeks," she answered quietly.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Girl." After a brief pause, she abruptly changed the subject. "Tell me what's up with Bee."

"They…The doctors…found a lump in her breast. When they tested it…" My voice trailed off, unable to find the words to describe how sick my friend was.

"Cancer…" Carmen filled in the blank.

I nodded, my knuckles turning white as they tightened around the steering wheel. "She threw Eric out yesterday."

Carmen's brow wrinkled slightly as she tried to process what I was telling her. "Legitimately, or is she mad at the c…" Biting down on her lip, Carmen shook her head. Suddenly, she couldn't say it either.

"Saying it makes it real."

"I know."

We drove in silence the rest of the way to Bridget's, until the car was parked. "Is it bad, Tibs?" Carmen whispered. "Because, I don't know how to do this. I don't do death anymore. I can't."

I shook my head offering my hands to the sky in surrender of everything that was wrong. "I don't know, Carma. I just don't know. She's our friend. She doesn't have anyone else."

Carmen stared out the window vacantly, her fingers absently flicking the power lock on and off.

"She's our friend," I repeated. "I know that we don't know how to do this, but we have to push through anyway. We have to be here. She needs us."

She nodded, pushing open the door and starting up the walk. Reaching the front door, she turned around and waited for me to be the one to ring the bell. I heard the ringing echo through the house, but there was no answer. I pounded on the door several times, but I still didn't hear any movement from inside.

Sticking my head around the corner, I saw her car in the open garage. "She's here. Her car is in the garage."

Carmen clutched at the porch railing to lower herself to the ground and lift up the welcome mat. Holding up a weather battered key, she whispered, "Typical Bee, right?"

I offered Carmen a hand up before I put the key in the door. I turned the handle and the door popped open. "Bee?" I called as the door slipped open. "You here?"

There was no answer. Carmen came into the front of the house right behind me. All of the lights were off leaving everything in shadows. I flipped the hall light on as I called out for Bridget again. "Bee?"

A clatter came from upstairs, something metal hitting a tile floor. "Tibby," Carmen said quietly, pointing at the ceiling.

I took the stairs two at a time with Carmen following behind me as quickly as she could. A light was coming from the second door in the hallway, spilling across the carpet from a tiny crack in the door. Laying my palm flat against the wood, I slowly eased the door open to see Bee sitting in the middle of her bathroom floor. "Bee?" I whispered, sinking to my knees about a foot away from her. I reached out a hand and laid it gently on her leg. "It's me. And Carmen. Carmen's here too."

Bee's eyes were empty as they stared off in the direction of the sink. Very slowly, she hefted an incredibly large pair of scissors that had been hidden behind her leg.

"Bee," I gasped, the air rushing out of my lungs like someone had punched me.

I was dimly aware of Carmen beside me struggling to lower herself to the floor. Tears streamed down Carmen's face as she reached out and wrapped her hand around Bee's, closing in on the scissors. "Bee," she murmured softly.

"It's…really bad," Bee whispered, so quietly that I almost missed it. "Really, really bad."

I could see the muscles in her arm tighten as she tried to pull the hand with the scissors out of Carmen's grasp. "Let…go of me," she stammered weakly. "Please…I…"

"No!" Carmen snapped suddenly. "No!"

Bridget cried out as Carmen tightened her fist, causing the scissors to clamor to the floor. "Stop…"

"No," Carmen said a third time. "You will not hurt yourself," she said firmly. "You are too strong; you are way too strong for that."

Bridget's eyes seemed to focus for the first time since we entered the room, and her gaze drifted from me to Carmen, and then back again. "It's…bad."

"Yes, I know, sweetie," I whispered, scooping up the hand that Carmen wasn't holding. "I know. But you'll fight it."

"We'll fight it," Carmen amended.

Bridget looked at us uncertainly. "I can't," she whispered.

"You can," Carmen stated.

Suddenly Bridget was lowering herself to the floor, her head resting my lap. I put my arm around her as Carmen reached out to stroke her hair. We stayed that way, on the bathroom floor, until Bridget fell asleep.


	7. Lost Inside

Lena

It was a beautiful evening outside but I found myself sitting on the couch staring out the window rather than outside enjoying it. My cell phone rang for what was quite possibly the hundredth time that day, and I ignored it again by shoving it between the cushions. I looked down at my hands, picking at the skin around my thumb until it started to bleed.

Paul was sitting just across the way in the kitchen, typing away at his laptop. I wasn't feeling well at all. The same migraine had plagued my brain for almost a week, and was accompanied by the nausea that always seemed to run tandem with a headache. I knew what it was, but I was also sure that if I ignored it, it would go away. Lying down quietly, I curled up with one of the pillows and holding it to my stomach as I turned on the television.

"Turn that off," Paul said abruptly, without even looking away from his computer screen. "Now."

I pressed the off button on the remote and rapidly shoved it back on to the coffee table without argument. Rolling over so that I was facing the back of the couch, I started painting a picture in my head. Imagining all of the different colors that I could use to get just the perfect hue of sunset, I was jarred out of my artistry by another demand.

"I'm hungry. When are you making dinner?"

My gaze drifted off into the triangular pattern on the couch, and none of the responses that ran through my head could find their way out of my mouth.

"I asked you a question. When's dinner?"

Rolling around again so that I was lying on my other side, facing back towards where Paul was sitting, I mumbled, "I don't think we have anything."

"Did you even look?" he questioned. I could hear the eye roll in the tone of his voice without even having to look at him.

"Did you?" I whispered, burying my face deep into the cushion I was holding.

Paul was across the room and in front of me before I had a chance to blink. He ripped the pillow out of my hands, his glare daring me to challenge him again. "Do you want to repeat that?"

I shook my head silently.

"I didn't think so," he responded.

Rising shakily to a sitting position, I boosted myself on the arm of the couch and forced my body vertical, slipping past Paul into the kitchen. On the bottom shelf of the pantry I found a slightly worn around the edges box of pasta shells. Standing up to get a pan swept a wave of dizziness through my head, and I groped almost blindly through the haze to catch my balance on the counter.

I somehow managed to fill the pot with water and get it on the burner. Calculating mentally the amount of time it would take to boil, I abandoned the stove and made my way down the hallway towards the bathroom, keeping one hand on the wall for stability. Closing the door behind me, I turned on the tap and wet a washcloth in the flow.

Struggling against the rolling feeling in my stomach, I put the wet cloth on the back of my neck to try and settle myself. Everything in my body felt wrong. I didn't realize how badly my legs were quivering until they were suddenly folding beneath me. My hands shook as I clutched at the sides of the toilet, willing myself to not get sick. There were too many things to get done-dinner, cleaning, work. I swallowed several times, black spots creeping in on the edges of my vision as I fought back against the heaving in my stomach.

It was a lost cause. My body took over from my mind and I found my face practically in the toilet bowl, the very little that I had managed to eat that day coming back up. When I was sure that there was nothing else left inside me, I tried to sit up, and my stomach started heaving again. The dry heaves continued for what felt like eternity, but then it was over just as suddenly as it had started.

Feeling somewhat better, I flushed the toilet and hauled myself to my feet. _Okay, Lena, you can do this. Go, finish dinner, and we'll figure out what to do later._

Right as my hand was about to reach the doorknob, the door flew open. "What are you doing?"

I took an instinctive step away, but not quickly enough to avoid the hand that lashed out to catch the side of my face with a glancing blow. Paul pushed me back so that the small of my back was pressed against the counter by the sink. "The water is boiling over," he hissed angrily.

"Then let me go so I can get it off the burner," I answered, taking deep breaths to hide the fear in my voice.

He held me against the counter with one hand, and used the other to strike me across the face again. "I already did, you idiot. You think I'm just going to let it overflow?"

"Paul," I moaned as his fingers dug into my upper arm with painful force, "you're hurting me."

"If you would do as you're told," he said calmly, "this wouldn't happen."

He let go of me and took another swing; this one so hard that it sent me sprawling across the floor. I could feel the bruises forming up the side of my face without even having to look.

"Paul, stop," I pleaded anxiously. Folding my hands protectively over my stomach, I curled up in a fetal position as he lashed out with his foot. "Paul, I'm…"

"Why can't you just do what I ask," he ranted, his foot making contact with my hip.

I drew tighter into myself, doing my best to protect my body. The blows rained down again and again, and I opened my mouth repeatedly to force out the words, but nothing would come. Tears sprang to my eyes, and as much as I tried to blink them back, I couldn't hold them in.

Having gotten whatever fill it was that he got out of causing pain, Paul turned around as if nothing had happened and began to wash his hands in the sink.

I managed to sit up against the bathtub, and I tried to assess if there was anything broken without moving. The words came out through my tears before I could stop them, "I'm pregnant, Paul."

Looking at me over his shoulder, he finished drying his hands and shrugged. "Okay," he replied simply, before walking out the door and disappearing down the hall.

As soon as he was gone, I let myself give into the pain and I lay down on the rug, unsure as to whether or not I could even get up.


	8. Distraction

Carmen

I wrapped my fingers around my glass of water until they overlapped.

"Carma?"

My gaze drifted upward at the sound of Tibby's voice. She was draped in the chair across the table from mine, drumming her fingers anxiously against the wood.

"You okay?" she asked hesitantly, abruptly shoving her fingers under her leg to stop the drumming.

Leaning back slightly, I let my hands come to rest on my belly and the baby inside. Shrugging, I whispered, "It's sort of…hard."

"Yeah," Tibby agreed, obviously at a loss in terms of what to say to me.

Bridget appeared quite suddenly in the kitchen behind Tibby, walking to the sink and turning on the tap without saying a word. Splashing some water on her face, she swept her out of control hair out of her face and into a low ponytail before joining us at the table. "Thanks," she mumbled. "For last night."

I nodded. "We're here for you."

"I know," she answered. After a beat, she looked directly up at me. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked, shaking my head slightly.

"For…Win. For…" she gestured at my stomach.

Staring down at the table, I picked at the loose skin around my thumb even as it started to bleed. "Don't be…" I replied, having gotten over everyone saying sorry continuously many months before.

"So…what happens next, Bee?" Tibby blurted in a blatant attempt to avoid the awkwardness.

Bridget grasped at the hair from the bottom of her ponytail, twirling it around her fingers. "Not sure. I have a couple…I don't know…options? Can we really call them options at this point? I…"

I reached out and snatched up her hand. "What are the choices?"

"I mean…there's chemo. And I pretty much have to do that any way I go…" Bridget looked up at us for confirmation. Tibby and I both shrugged in response. "And then…they…they…Well…" She took a deep breath, and I could feel her body shudder slightly under my light touch.

Tibby and I exchanged a brief glance, neither one of us wanting to say anything yet.

"They can cut out the lump, and possibly salvage the breast. I would need radiation after that probably to make sure the cancer is really gone. Or…they could just…take the whole thing…and it might not even…work…"

A single tear trickled down Bridget's cheek, and I reached over with my free hand to wipe it away. "It'll be okay, Bee."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "It's not your body being cut apart."

I scooted my chair closer to Bridget's so that I could pull her into a tight embrace. "Bee, I love you," I whispered as she buried her face in my shoulder.

"I know….I'm…sorry…I…"

"When do you start…treatment?" Tibby asked.

"Next week," Bridget mumbled into my shoulder before pulling away and taking a sip of water from my glass. "Look…you guys…"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Can…I just…I need to think about something else. Talk about something else. Anything else," she stuttered.

"Um…okay," Tibby paused for a second before asking, "Has anyone talked to Lena?"

I lifted my hands slightly in a half shrug. "I haven't talked to any of you since…"

"Since Win?" Bridget finished for me. "We missed you, Carmen. I missed you." She reached out to give my hand a squeeze; reciprocating the support I'd given her earlier.

"The last I heard, she and Paul were still married and in the same place," I threw in. "Beyond that…she called me every day for the longest time, but when I didn't return the calls, it just sort of stopped."

"She should know what's going on," Bridget quietly added. "I want her to know; to be here. I tried calling a million times, but it keeps going to voicemail…and now the voicemail is full."

"We could drive down there," Tibby suggested. "Could be a nice road trip; a distraction."

I nodded. "You want to, Bee?"

Bridget's lips curled into a small smile. "Lord knows I could use a distraction."

"We're in agreement then?" I asked. At both of their nods, I said, "Then let's get packing."


	9. What the Hell?

Bridget

I jiggled the cord on the bottom of the GPS unit, testing the connection to make sure it was plugged in tightly. A quick glance up confirmed my suspicion that there was still no picture on the display. "I knew we should have printed a map out," I grumbled.

"I know where I'm going, Bee," insisted Carmen.

"Uh-huh," I acknowledged, flicking the dead screen with my finger in hopes of forcing it to some form of life.

"He's my cousin. Sort of. I've been to his house before, before they were even married."

Huffing slightly, I thumped back against the passenger's seat of the car. "Whatever."

"Bridget, I'm sure something's just wrong with her phone," Tibby said gently. "I'm sure she's fine. But we'll be there in no time."

Adamantly, I shook my head. "She would have called. Especially now. I know she would have called me back."

"We'll be there in, like, five minutes," Carmen said. "We'll all go out to eat, and we'll talk about stuff and sort this all out."

The road twisted and turned several more times, and we rode on in silence the entire way to Lena and Paul's driveway. The sun was just starting to go down, and a thin layer of darkness was closing in on the sky. I got out practically before the car had stopped beside Lena and Paul's car, not waiting for my friends to go up on the porch and knock on the front door.

"Anything?" Tibby asked, coming up behind me on the porch.

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself to help ward off the slight chill. "Lena, it's Bee!" I called, knocking on the door again. "Are you guys in there?"

The door opened up slowly, and the three of us took a step backwards. "Hey, guys," Paul said, leaning against the door frame. "What's up?"

"We just came out to see Lena," Tibby answered. "Is she home?"

"You drove all the way out here, without calling first?"

"I've driven here before," Carmen pointed out. "It's not that far."

"And we did call," I added quickly. "A lot."

"Lena's not feeling well right now," Paul stated, his eyes darting around as he seemingly tried to plan his words. "She's already in bed. Can you guys come back another time?"

"Sure," Tibby snapped sarcastically, "we'll just drive back to Bethesda and come all the way back out here tomorrow."

"Tibby!" Carmen admonished.

"This is important, Carmen, don't…" Tibby protested.  
"Don't you think I know that?" Carmen shot back. "It's not…"

"Guys," I interrupted, "just shut up, okay?"

"If you guys don't mind…" Paul quietly stepped back inside and began to shut the door.

I jumped away from my friends and stuck my foot into the crack before the door could completely shut. "She'd want to see me," I insisted.

"I've got to say no, Bridget," Paul maintained. "I'm sorry. I should get back upstairs."

My fingers wrapped around the door of their own accord as a single tear trailed down my cheek. I could feel something deep inside my gut that I could remember feeling only one time before in my life—the day that I found out about the cancer. "I need. To talk. To Lena." Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I struggled to keep my hands from shaking. "For just…even one second. I just need to see her."

Carmen and Tibby came up to stand right behind me and back me up, seeming to sense the sudden change in my attitude.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Let me go see if she's awake. I'll be right back." He nudged me out of the doorway and shut the door behind me. The action of the bolt sliding home came through the wood.

"What the hell?" Carmen asked.

"I don't know…" I whispered. "Sometimes…I don't know. I just have a really bad feeling about all of this.

"Me too," Tibby muttered.

"Yeah…" Carmen added. "I…" She shook her head without saying anything else.

The three of us sat down on the top step of the porch and waited for Paul to come back.


	10. Everything is Fine

Lena

I lay back in the bed, staring at the program on the television without really absorbing any of it. I struggled to find a comfortable position I could lie in without aching, but it seemed to be a bit futile. A foggy haze was settling over me, and I let my eyes drift shut, not wanting to fight against it anymore.

The door opened suddenly and Paul slipped into the bedroom, startling me back to consciousness. "You have visitors," he said quietly. "On the porch."

I rolled my head over without lifting it from the pillow so that I could meet his eyes. "Who's here? I don't know anybody to have visitors…"

"It's the girls…Carmen, Tibby, Bridget."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, biting the inside of my mouth abruptly to keep my face from lighting up. I didn't want Paul to know how much I wanted to see them.

Paul eyed me carefully, perching on the very end of the bed. "I told them you weren't feeling well."

_'That's true, I guess,'_ I thought silently. "I guess…" I said out loud, trying to keep my disappointment in check.

"But…" Paul added with a hint of irritation clouding his words, "they won't go away."

Rolling my head back to the other side, I resumed staring at the television. I couldn't handle being toyed with anymore. Paul stood up and pulled the sheet and blanket practically up to my chin. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, trying to not show any interest in what he was doing.

"I'm…going to let Bridget come up for a little bit. Just to see you're okay. If that's okay."

_'As if you ever ask my permission for anything? And okay? Like it wouldn't be okay? Are you crazy? Of course you are…don't answer that…' _

I nodded slightly. "Yeah, for a little bit."

It went unspoken; what Paul was doing with the blanket. I was supposed to go on like everything was fine, once again not showing my friends what was going on. Paul disappeared out the bedroom door, only to be replaced a minute later by a very scared looking Bridget.

"Lenny…?" she whispered, crossing the room in a few steps and sitting on the spot Paul had vacated earlier. "You okay?"

"Yeah…silly," I forced a small laugh out to try and make her feel better. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You haven't answered the phone."

"I know…" I let the sentence die as it left my lips, unsure of what excuse I could give that would ring true.

"I…" Bridget trailed off, giving me a quick up and down appraisal. "Paul said you were sick…"

"You could say that," I replied evasively.

"What's wrong?" she asked, snatching up my hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

"Nothing, Bee, I'm fine, I swear." Boring holes into the television screen with my eyes, I looked anywhere but at my friend. I was afraid that if she looked too closely at me, she'd figure out the truth. In the past, Bridget had known me better than anyone else.

I was trying to make up lies on the fly, something that I had never been good at. In that moment, I decided to let her have a shred of the truth. "Nothing, Bee. Nothing's wrong, I…I'm having a baby."

"Oh my gosh, Lena! That's so great, I…" She looked at me again, taking in a breath as she made another observation. "You're not doing well," she stated.

"It's been rough," I whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay. "But I'm okay."

"Aw…honey…" Bridget reached out to push the hair out of my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." I struggled to push myself up against the pillows, and failing miserably, sank back into the covers.

Bridget reached behind me to try and help me sit up, but her hand on the small of my back made me wince. She pulled away as if she had been burned, reaching up to pull down the sheets and reveal some of my bruises underneath. Shaking slightly, she drew her hand back as a single tear appeared on her cheek. "I…had a feeling something was wrong, Lenny, I had a feeling, I…"

"Bee, it's…it's not…"

"Lena," she quietly stopped me mid sentence. "Please…you've been…Tell me the truth?"

"I can't do that," was all I could manage to come back with. "I'm so sorry, Bee."

Her voice quivered as she took my hand again. "He's hurting you, isn't he?"

"I can't…" I sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. "I…can't." _'What will Paul say if he finds out I said anything?'_

"Lena…"

"Everything is…fine, Bee. It's fine," I lied.

"Lenny," Bridget protested, leaning over me so that there was no chance of anyone else hearing her. "I…We…We could help you."

"Everything is just fine, Bee," I insisted. "I promise." After a moment, I added, "I'm really tired. You should probably just go."

"Okay," she said quietly, getting to her feet. "But I love you, Lena. We all do. You know that, right?"

"Yeah…I know. I love you too…"

Bridget turned around and made like she was going to leave the room, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. "I have this feeling like I'm not going to see you again," she said, so quietly I could barely make it out, and I could tell that she was crying by the way her shoulders started to shake. "I hate these feelings. The last time I had a feeling…I got…cancer." With that statement, she opened the door and disappeared, leaving me in the bed with my mouth hanging open.

_'Cancer…?'_

Tears literally streamed down my face as I watched my best friend go out the door over and over again in my head. I couldn't shake the feeling that she might be right, that we might never see each other after this night. Before I could change my mind, I slipped my cell phone out of the nightstand drawer where I had it hidden. Pulling up Bridget's contact information, I sent her a quick text message.

**'I lied…Bee…I lied to you. Just now. I'm so sorry…'**

I knew that she would understand.


	11. Liar

Bridget

I ran down the stairs two at a time, sprinting through the living room and crashing into the front door so hard that I sent it slamming into the front of the house. I brushed past my friends, barely making it to the car before the sobs overtook me and I collapsed in a ball on the driveway.

"Bridget…?" I buried my face in my knees and leaned against the car as Tibby put her arms around me. "Bee…what happened? Is it Lena? Is she okay?"

Gasping for air, I wiped furiously at tears that were coming faster than I could erase them. Pushing Tibby away, I shook my head and continued to cry.

"Bee? Talk," Carmen commanded, leaning against the hood of the car.

I finally succeeded in escaping Tibby grasp, and I struggled to my feet, banging aimlessly on the door of the car. "I hate this!" I screamed angrily. "I hate all of this! I hate that I'm weak. I hate that I'm not the person that I used to be…before…I shouldn't have left her there, I wouldn't have left her, I…can't…" My hands shook as I struck the car again and again.

"Bee…?" Tibby asked.

"She's…a liar…" I whispered, the anger slowly leaking out of me and being replaced by something else entirely. "She lied to me."

"What did she lie about?"

I shook my head again, opening the car door as all of my energy seeped out of me so I could sink onto the seat. "Tibs…"

"What?"

"He's…Paul…he's hurting her."

"What?" Tibby gasped.

Carmen came around the car and slipped into the driver's seat, shutting the door behind her. "That's ridiculous," she said. "Paul's always been a great guy, he would never…"

"He's hurting her," I interrupted Carmen. "I saw her. With my own eyes." I realized I was crying again, and absently swiped at my cheeks. "I saw her…but she lied to me. She told me it was nothing, that everything was fine."

Carmen's fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she took in what I was saying.

"I saw her, Carma…I…She's my best friend…and I…I just…know."

"Oh…wow…" Carmen whispered.

Tibby sank down on her butt right on the gravel of the driveway.

"I think she's really hurt…" I added. "And…she's pregnant."

Carmen's face turned sheet white and tears streamed down her cheeks as she laid her hands across her own pregnant belly. Ripping open the car door, she threw herself out and sank to her knees on the driveway, retching violently. When the heaving subsided, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and rocked back so that she was leaning against the car. Tibby and I came and sat beside her.

"What do we do?" she whispered.

"Does she even know it's a….problem? She lied to me, to my face, when I could see the evidence, and I just…" My cell phone vibrated once in my pocket, and I pulled it out to view a new text message. "It's from Lena," I whispered, flipping open the phone so that Tibby and Carmen could see. **'I lied…Bee…I lied to you. Just now. I'm so sorry…"**

"Answers that question…" Tibby muttered.

"I don't want to leave her here…with him," I whispered.

"We can't," Carmen agreed. "But what can we do? Call the police?"

"What if he hurts her?" I argued.

Tibby got to her feet, reaching back to dust off her butt. "I'm going to talk to her. I'm going to get her out."

Before Carmen and I could stop her, Tibby had crossed the driveway and climbed the front steps, and was already pounding on the front door.


End file.
